


Once Alone...

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-06
Updated: 2006-02-06
Packaged: 2018-10-27 08:11:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10805208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: The Pureblood tradition affects Draco; and only Lucius can make it better... Warning: Contains some Self Harm





	Once Alone...

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: This is the result of the sentence 'He had always slept alone' lodging itself in my brain.  


* * *

He had always slept alone. From the moment the nurse had finished cleaning him and laid him in the antique cradle, no-one had ever curled up to him at night. It wasn't that his mother hadn't wanted to, as she stared at him from the birthing bed, it just wasn't done. It wasn't how you were raised.

He never knew any different, growing up as he had surrounded by other similar pure-blood children, he had just always felt something was missing. That he wasn't quite whole inside. Wandering down the paths of twisted rose bushes and white oleanders, he would sometimes press his thumb against the thorns to see if without this piece inside him, he was still alive. When he was older, 10 or so, this would leave blood marks on the stone. It made him feel better, and the gardeners never told.

Once, he went too far. The palm of his hand was slick, crimson. It wouldn't stop. As the blood ran and stained his robes, it grew difficult to pick out detail. All around him red blurred with white and green and he wondered if these were in fact the base colours of life. As he began to fall, somewhere he could hear someone running.

The first thing he realised when he opened his eyes was that there was an arm underneath his neck. The second thing was that the little piece that was missing had returned. He turned his head to the right and saw that his father, usually so far away and aloof, was pressed against him.

He murmured and his father stirred and sat up a little. He reached over and caressed Draco's cheek, carefully, as if the boy beneath his finger tips was liable to break at any second.

'My boy...' he whispered, and leaned down to kiss Draco's forehead. 'My beautiful boy...'

'Father, I’m sorry. I didn't mea...' Lucius silenced him with a finger against his lips.

'Don't speak.'

So he just stared at his father, and his father stared back, inches away. 11 years of living together, and this was the closest Draco had ever been to Lucius. He had never realised how deep his fathers eyes went, how much there was underneath this man who had given him life.

For Lucius, he had never realised how beautiful Draco actually was. How perfect. He couldn’t understand why he had never seen it before.

And then, like one, as if someone had finally given the signal, they kissed.

After that, Draco never slept alone at home again.

 


End file.
